As I'm writing this, I'm not going to lie to you I'm sprawled across my bed half naked.
I've just fake tanned for the week ahead and I'm letting myself, shall we say, air dry. (God forbid anyone to walk into my room right now).
What's the harm in being honest?!
I could've told you that I typed up this post whilst doing something a bit more exciting (and fully clothed) like people watching out of a Starbucks window with a Latte to my right and a giant slice of cake to the left of me, but that would have been a big fat lie - plus, I don't eat cake.
Nethertheless, here I am laying on my bed letting my new terracotta tinge melt into my body as I jam these sentences together.
Anyway this post is about being honest, not about the everchanging colour of my skin.
I felt like being honest. Well, quite frankly I am always honest. Not brutaly but very honest. I wouldn't neccessarily tell you how awful your outfit looked on you, but I would tell you that your crop top does not sit well with your low rise jeans (c'mon, I'm just doing a girl a favour).
But more to the point, honesty is always the best policy. Hold up, cliche police. Yeah I know, whatevs.
And right now, I wanted to be honest. No, I haven't got a massive secret to let out. More so I just wanted to be honest with myself and on my blog is the place I wanted to do it.
Have you ever had that time in your life where you just sit (or lay across your bed, clothing optional) and wonder what is your life?! What have you got to show for yourself? What have you acheived? What are you proud of? And what the future holds. Yup. That's me, right now.
It's a Sunday night; it's gone 9pm, I'm shattered, still full from my roast dinner and I'm thinking back on the day I've just had.
I'm thinking how each day I start and finish is another day and another oppurtunity to make something with my life. A chance to set myself up for my future, 24 hours to make a difference to what my career/life/family will be like. And what do I do? I fill it with a 9-6 shift, too many roast potatoes and the constant doubt that I'm wasting my life.
Yes, I'm 19. An age which some people may consider to be young and others old, an age where half my peers are still fumbling around muddling through each day and the other half are making something of themselves and then there's me, doing something kind of in the middle.
Maybe I have this all wrong? Maybe everything I'm doing now is right. Maybe my job, my hobbies, my friends, my choices are all, without me knowing, steering me on the right path and to the place I am destined to be. Or maybe I am right. And maybe this Sunday night revelation is the wake up call I've been needing. Or maybe I'm overthinking this whole situation cos I'm f*cking tired and bored. Who knows.
But what I do know is I want more.
I want to wake up every morning (in my Pinterest designed London apartment) and feel like I have the power to make a difference. To reach for goals no matter how big or small they are. To make myself proud. And to, more importantly, be the best version of me. I want to finish the day patting myself on the back for squeezing the most out of my day, being my best self and helping my future self on whatever path she ends up on.
Don't get me wrong squeezing the most out of everyday isn't always going to be easy. Traffic, fake tan disasters and running out of soya milk (to name but a few personal life tragedies) with stop you firming in your tracks but it's about rising above them, remaining positive and grabbing life by the butt cheeks.
So here's to this. The here and now. To whatever the f*cking future may bring and to me being the best version of me (whoever she is). Cheers.
I'm outty.
Note to self, don't pour your heart out in another blog post again.
K thanks, bye babez.
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